Kuldahar

Jermsy merely shrugs once more. "Maybe it would have been better than this place."

A fierce growl rolls out from Halla's lips. "A disguised fiend in Kuldahar? How long has he been here? What has it heard? Has it always been Whitcomb, or did it murder him and take his place?" Her eyes pop wide open with fear and the growl leaves her. "It knows about Mona and Lance! If it works for Belhifet, that means he knows too!"

Unsure of what chaos he has walked into the dwarf keeps his silence, waiting for the right moment to share what he has discovered. With the mention of Father Tulfgyr, the conversation feels less intimidating and unable to contain himself, the old dwarf blurts out without restraint...

"The Father, slain he was not. Such a dwerf passed because his time has ended, the children were helping with his rites as he left this plane, We must finish the rites and bury the Father among stone."

...

"This fiend, it must be rooted out, surely we could discern who it's master is if we are able to capture it".

Zenithral looks like he just shot himself in the foot when Alalla mentions Whitcomb. "That must be why Ilmadia thought Kuldahar was so dangerous for them!"

"Well let's go get him, then! If he's disguised, he likely has other tricks up his sleeve...I can try to keep him from escaping through his hidey hole. We can consider this a practice run. Erevain can try to prevent his spellcasting while Alalla pins him down. Something like that...Where's the disappearing door, Jermsy?"

Jermsy scratches his ear. "Good luck capturing him. He's sneaky. I saw the door down in the cellar. It was against one of the walls, but I don't think that's where it leads." He raises a dirty finger. "I call dibs on some of his treasure!"

As if Zenithral summoned him by mentioning his name, Erevain appears out of the shadows. The elf sidles up next to Alalla, then does a double-take as he looks into her eyes. A smile splits his face. "Alalla! Did you... You must tell me everything when we have a moment."

He looks at the others and loosens his sword in its scabbard. "I hear we go to hunt a fiend? No matter how canny he is, he will be hard pressed to escape my tracking and Alalla's sense." He turns to make his way towards the Root Cellar Tavern, but then pauses. "Should we invite the blood hunters? As I recall, they were rather fond of their barkeep..."

The party approaches the Root Cellar Tavern, weapons at the ready. Whatever fiend this is who masquerades as Whitcomb, it must be intelligent – and dangerous.

As they draw close, Erevain holds up a hand as he closes his eyes, attuning himself to world around him. His brow furrows, and then he opens his eyes and nods. There is indeed a fiend nearby. The elf slips up to one window and peers inside the common room. He looks back at the party and mouths ‘empty’. He puts his hand to the front door. It’s locked.

Erevain raises a fine eyebrow, as if to ask ‘the quiet way or the noisy way?’

Something tickled the back of Zenithral's mind. Something didn't feel right. Was it something Erevain had said?

When Erevain closes his eyes, Zenithral takes a breath and whispers a prayer to open his own senses. His, he knew, would be more attuned, able to identify exactly where a fiend would be. (Casts Detect Evil and Good)

"Yes, yes. I'm a paladin now. I've done everything else I never thought I'd do so I might as well finish the list." Alalla pointedly ignores Erevain's smile as well as the heat creeping up her face. "I don't think bringing the hunters is wise. I think it's possible Whitcomb has the children. I'm not sure whether to hope or fear this is the case, but if it is, the sight of the hunters could scare them. Besides, I'm not quite sure we can trust them in the presence of three fiends. Not yet."

Al looks over her gear quickly, then gestures to the group. "Let's hunt is a barkeep."

Alalla returns the raised eyebrow as if to ask, 'dont you know who you married?' She kicks down the door.

Bow in hand, Zenithral's eyes glow white and he points down at the floor, indicating the fiend is, indeed, downstairs. He waits for Alalla to go first, knowing she's much more adept in close quarters than he.

Alalla feels her eyes begin to burn in response, but pushes the fire down. She marches down the stairs, glaive blade first.

Alalla descends the stairs, the others just behind. The cellar is dark, lit only by faint candlelight. There are a number of large casks about the room, no doubt filled with various alcoholic beverages. It is between two such casks that Whitcomb sits upon a chair, head resting in one hand.

"So here we are! I thought you would come, sooner or later. What can I do for you, heroes?" The disguised fiend's eyes flash with an inner purple fire.

Alalla looks the man over. "You can answer three questions to start. Why are you here, who are you working for, and where are the twins?"

"Work. Belhifet. Safe." Whitcomb puts his hands behind his head and leans back. "There's more to be learned from me than those trite answers. But they'll cost you. What can you offer me, in exchange for information?"

Alalla chokes. "What can I offer?!" She steps towards the fiend as her glaive glows with divine light. "Let's start with your life!"

"You know, 'safe' isn't a place, unless you've literally locked them in a vault, that is." Zenithral notices Whitcomb's coolness and Alalla's fire. "Ah, killing you isn't a problem, is it, my dear fiend? To be honest, I'm not all that familiar with your tastes...You clearly like drink and deviousness, but what else?"

Al looks at Zenithral sharply. "We don't play games with Belhifet's cronies." Burning wings appear behind her briefly as her eyes flash with fire. "Remember?"